


DA:I - You're Safe Here

by rprambles



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Past Abuse, Platonic Hurt/Comfort, internalized ableism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 16:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8540458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rprambles/pseuds/rprambles
Summary: When Olek woke up to a sharp throbbing in his knee, he knew he wasn’t going anywhere.A/N - warnings for internalized ableism, PTSD, and mentions of abuse. Reader discretion is advised





	

When Olek woke up to a sharp throbbing in his knee, he knew he wasn’t going anywhere. A test stretch sent shoots of pain up his leg and he hissed as he settled back against the bed. Okay, yeah, not moving is a good idea. At least he was in an actual bed and not on a thin blanket on the floor. And even better, he didn’t have to worry about someone coming to beat the cripple.

Right?

He jumped at a knock on the door – and winced at the fresh jolt of pain.

“Herald? May I enter?”

Olek bit his lip and sat up slowly. Shit, it hurt. Once he was upright, he took a moment to breathe and rub at his knee. “Yeah, s'unlocked.”

The door swung open and a stiff cold wind blew through the tiny house until Aderyn closed it. It had taken a while for the elven woman to relax around someone so ‘important’, but now she approached him with ease. “Messere Flissa asked me to bring you some tea. It’s very cold today.”

That might explain why his leg had locked up. Olek accepted the offered cup carefully. “ _Gracias_ , messere.”

“Lady Josephine requests you join her after breakfast at the war table.”

Well, fuck. He hid a worried frown with the cup. The tea doesn’t do much for the nerves itching at his skin, but it chases off some of the chill. “I’ll try t’ be there.”

“Do you need anything else, Your Worship?”

“Nah. Thanks again for the tea.”

He took another sip to ward off the brief chill as she left him to figure out this problem. Most everyone had noticed his bad leg by now and it hadn’t caused any problems. A lot of people asked if he needed help with it, which had the dwarf blinking at them in surprise. He wasn’t used to people that weren’t crew caring about him.

But limping about and unable to walk were different things.

When he ran out of tea, Olek set the cup aside with a sigh. He said he’d try. He bit into his lip against curses as he swung his legs around to hang off the edge of the bed. It’s just pain, he told himself. Nothing new there. He could do this.

Pushing himself forward, Olek moved to stand up. The moment he put weight on his bad leg, his knee buckled and he crumpled to the floor. “Fuck!” Ow, ow, fuck that hurt. Reaching up, he grabbed hold of a bedpost and pulled himself upright, keeping his bad leg off the floor as he caught his breath. Okay. Try again.

He quickly lost count of how many times he fell, often right on his bad leg, sending his teeth into his lip again to hold back a yell. He’d have bruises all down his sides for weeks, he could feel it. And he still couldn’t make it across the room. The Chantry might as well be on the other side of Thedas.

His breath hitched in his chest and Olek lifted his scarf to bury his face in it. Damn it, why couldn’t he do this? What good was someone who couldn’t _walk_?

 

* * *

Varric directed a foul look at all the snow that had built up overnight as he trudged down the hillside. Maker’s ass, why couldn’t this new world order pick somewhere warm to set up shop? All the white shit was cold and wet and there was entirely too much of it and it made him miss Kirkwall. Though a lot of things did that.

Pushing that somber train of thought aside, he pulled his coat tighter and waved at the commander doing his best to look imposing. To give him credit, it did come fairly naturally to him. Nothing on the Seeker, though. “Hey, Curly. Have you seen Nimble?”

Cullen turned, head tilting in confusion. “Nimble?”

Varric only just resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Cadash.”

“Ah. No, I haven’t.”

“Didn’t see him at breakfast. Wondering if he forgot.” People who were used to going without tended to forget such things, in his experience.

Cullen hummed. “Josephine said she had some things to discuss with him today. Perhaps we should speak with her.”

“We?” The rogue arched a brow. “Is this concern I’m seeing? Don’t worry, I won’t say anything. Don’t want to ruin your reputation.”

Cullen rolled his eyes and followed him back up the awful hill, which Varric grumbled about all the way to the Chantry. “Honestly, would it be so difficult for the ground to be level?”

“But then what would you complain about?”

“Oh, I’ve got a long list, Curly.” Pushing the doors open, Varric paused to give an internal prayer of thanks for the surge of warmth. Being indoors was so much nicer.

Josephine looked up with a smile as they entered her claimed office. “Ah, good morning.”

“Ruffles, have you seen Nimble?”

“Olek?” Her brows lowered in concern. “No, I’ve not seen him yet.”

“Okay, now I’m getting worried,” Varric said; it was only a partial lie.

“Have you checked his quarters? Perhaps he overslept.” Rising from her desk, Josephine took a clearly well-made coat from the hanger in the corner.

Varric snorted. “What are we, a bunch of mother hens?”

“You started it,” Cullen pointed out.

“Yeah, yeah. C'mon, then.”

And back out into the cold they went, Josephine giggling occasionally at Varric’s complaints about losing feeling in his fingers. At least it wasn’t far to the tiny house Olek stayed in, and Varric knocked as he called out, “Nimble? You in there?”

No answer. Dread started to pull at his gut, and he tested the knob. Unlocked. “Nimble, we’re coming in.”

The door swung open and there was Cadash on the floor, staring up at them with wide, red-rimmed eyes. Varric cursed as he hurried forward, Josephine and Cullen right behind. “Are you-”

Cadash shrank back, visibly trembling, voice cracking as he babbled out, “I-I’m sorry, m’sorry, I-I tried, I d-did, m'sorry!”

Shit. Varric quickly shooed the others back a few steps; worry shone in the ambassador’s eyes, while the commander had paled. Keeping his hands where his fellow dwarf could see them, he spoke gently, “It’s alright, Nimble. Can you tell us what happened?”

A blink, and Cadash swallowed, eyes darting between the three of them. “T-tried t’ stand up, but my leg…” He dropped his head in shame. “S'locked up. I-I can’t walk, m'sorry.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Cadash,” Cullen assured. “It’s alright.”

Varric stepped a little closer and patted Cadash’s shoulder gently; he jumped at the touch, but didn’t jerk away. “Let’s get you back in bed, alright?”

Cadash blinked and rubbed roughly at a tattooed and tear-stained cheek. “…Kay.”

“Alright. Curly’s gonna pick you up, just for a second.”

Cullen nodded and moved to the dwarf’s side, crouching to slide a hand round Cadash’s shoulders and under his knees. “Ready?” At his nod Cullen had him off the floor and into the bed in one smooth movement; Cadash barely had a chance to wince.

“Does your leg 'lock up’ often?” Josephine asked, moving closer to offer a handkerchief.

“S-sometimes.” Cadash took the cloth and wiped at his face, muffling his voice a little. “When it’s cold o-or I’ve been on it a lot. Or it just wants t’.”

“Is there anything that can be done? Can we make you more comfortable?”

He blinked up at her, brows furrowed, before stammering out, “O-oh, you don’t need t’ fret. S'alright.”

Being an expert on lies, Varric gave Cadash a clear look. “We’re going to fret, Nimble. At least for a little while. I’ll scare up some food for you, alright?”

“I’ll fetch a healer,” Cullen said. “If nothing else, they can ease the pain.”

Cadash opened his mouth to argue, then closed it and bit at his lip before looking up at Josephine. “What about that thing, you wanted t’…”

“It can wait until you feel better,” she assured.

“Y'sure? I don’t’ want t’…” He looked around a moment. “We could talk in here, right?”

“That would not overly tax you?”

“Nah, it’d be nice t’ do somethin’.”

“In that case, I’ll bring my deck of cards too,” Varric offered. “We can play some Wicked Grace.” That got a small smile from Cadash, and he winked back.

“Alright, I need to collect some things from my office. Will you be alright until one of us returns?” Josephine asked.

Cadash nodded. “Yeah. S'long as I don’t leave this bed, 'course.”

If he was joking, he felt better. Or was hiding the hurt. Or both. Hard to tell with heroes. Varric reached out and ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry, Nimble, you’re safe here. Be right back.”


End file.
